


my name's enjolras, i am a poet

by alwaysayes



Series: things you said [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:18:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6731956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysayes/pseuds/alwaysayes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>enjoltaire + things you said when i introduced myself</p>
            </blockquote>





	my name's enjolras, i am a poet

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first gander into enjoltaire..... its basically a coffee shop poetry au

Grantaire looked down at his sketchbook, looking down at the sketches of the curly haired blond boy.

He looked over to the counter where the boy was standing, ordering the same drink he always does, grinning with that stupid smile that had entranced him.

The boy glanced over at him from the counter. 

He made his way over to him, smiling.

“Hi,” He said softly.

“Hi,” Said Grantaire in response.

“Nice drawings.” The boy grinned.

Grantaire’s face was on fire.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll throw them away, this is so creepy-”

“No, I think they look great, actually. If you ever need a model for life drawings,” The boy was saying. Grantaire's face heated up even more. Life drawings were  _ nude  _ drawings. 

“I’d be happy to model.” 

“Green tea frappuccino with coconut milk!” The barista was calling out, and the blond boy walked off, smiling as he sauntered away.

Grantaire was sitting there, mouth agape, as Jehan grinned over at him, a laugh evident in their eyes.

-

The next day was nothing different, a similar conversation cut off by his order being called. But today, Grantaire was sketching the tables and whatever came to his mind, flowers, teacups, Jehan. Just trying to avoid sketching the blond boy that had captured his eyes.

The boy made his way over once more, stopping to talk for a millisecond before fleeting away like a moth.

Today’s drink was different, almost pure espresso.

“Bye, Enjolras!’ Jehan was calling.

“Peace out, Jehan.”

“Jehan!” Grantaire found himself saying, springing over to the counter.

“Yes, R?”

“You  _ know _ him?” 

“Uh, yeah. We kind of go to the same poetry nights every month.”

“Jehan,” Grantaire whined. “You can’t not tell me if you know someone that attractive!”

“I’m sorry, didn’t know faun-esque blond boys were your thing.”

Grantaire grinned at his friend.

“Fine, I’ll tell you his name. His name in Enjolras, that’s E-N-J-O-L-R-A-S, if you wanted to put it in hearts in your sketchbook.” 

“Shut up, Je.” Grantaire shoved.

Grantaire followed his routine every day, until one day he caved and went to one of JEhan’s poetry nights.

They stood up on the stage, stammering over their words until they gained their composure and started reading.

Grantaire smiled when they were done performing, joining in on the snapping.

Then, once Jehan had returned to their seat, the person in charge called for the next poet, someone performing under the name of Apollo, and Enjolras stepped up to the makeshift stage.

The poem he read was elegant- entrancing. His eyes scanned the small crowd and met Grantaire's, blushing.

Grantaire’s smile widened when Enjolras was done reading, snapping.

Enjolras made his way over to a table where two others were holding hands.

“He was the last performer to sign up.” Whispered Jehan.

“Okay. Can I go flirt with him now?”

“You’ve been pining for six months. Go loose, R.” Jehan grinned.

Grantaire walked over to the table where Enjolras and the two others were sitting.

“That was. Wow.” He found himself saying, avoiding Enjolras’ eyes.

“Thanks.” Enjolras smiled.

“I’m Grantaire. You can call me R if you want, if you appreciate puns or whatever.” He stammered.

“I’m Enjolras.”

“Is this the guy you’ve been pining over for six months?” One of the people asked Enjolras, and his face heated up.

He nodded slowly.

Grantaire looked over to the two people sitting across from Enjolras.

“Evening, Combeferre. Courfeyrac.” Grantaire nodded.

“Oh my g-d,” Enjolras’ blush was getting larger and larger.

“You know each other?” 

“Ferre, Courf and I were all in a bowling league together.” 

“ _ Bowling?  _ You  _ dorks! _ ” 

“We aren’t the ones who pined over someone we had spoken one sentence to for six months, though.” Combeferre said, and Enjolras yelped as a hand hit the back of his head.

Jehan leaned down and whispered in Enjolras’ ear.

“Grantaire,” He started. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” 

“Yes!” Grantaire blurted.

“Oh my g-d. Just get each others numbers or go home with each other, dannit.” Courfeyrac said, scooting out his chair.

“Ferre and I are heading out. Nice seeing you three, though.” 

Needless to say, Enjolras and Grantaire definitely went home together. Grantaire just didn’t leave once his shirt hit the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> comment " (ship) + things you said when (x scenario)" and i'll write some! ships i'll write include lams, elams, schuylerton but aren't limited to those!


End file.
